


synchronicity

by machellex



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: A lot of alternate universes, Alternate Universe - CIA, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, and if Cassian & Jyn were MTB before they met in R1, but with a different character arc, like a Coming of Age story, p much anyway, this is almost a what if rogue one modernized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machellex/pseuds/machellex
Summary: ----They meet unconventionally, sometimes too often, paths crossing only momentarily before life takes them a couple of steps more down two different journeys. Their meetings are never long, only waver between a second and five, and it’s not until the second or third or fourth that they even remember each other.They keep missing their moments, circling like an orbit, never exactly meeting at the middle though they should, they want to, they need to.He thinks it’s fate.She doesn’t quite believe in fate.But maybe they can believe in something.----





	1. almost

* * *

 

 **synchronicity** [  _noun_ ] the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated or unlikely to occur together by chance, yet are experienced as occurring together in a meaningful manner

 

* * *

 

**i. almost**

They meet unconventionally, sometimes too often, paths crossing only momentarily before life takes them a couple of steps more down two different journeys. Their meetings are never long, only waver between a second and five, and it’s not until the second or third or fourth that they even remember each other.

They keep missing their moments, circling like an orbit, never touching though they should, they want to, they need to.

_He thinks it’s fate._

_She doesn’t quite believe in fate._

_But maybe they can believe in something._

—

Cassian is late.

“Can I get a cup of coffee?” he says hurriedly as he sets down his card, his fingers tapping in rhythmic motion on the counter top. His gaze shifts to his phone, carefully checks the clock. He’s late, he knows he is, but he’s been up for far too long to not have caffeine in his system. “No room.”

The barista eyes him warily before grabbing a cup and filling it up. “Maybe you shouldn’t have stopped for coffee if you’re in a hurry.”

He merely glares at her as she comes back and presses down the lid. “I’m running on 48 hours of no sleep, so I think I need the coffee…” he pauses and shifts his gaze down to her name tag, “…Jyn. Thanks for your advice though. Although no one asked you.”

He grabs his card and coffee cup from her hand, and he’s out the door before she can respond. If he had waited, he’d only miss an eye roll before she moves on to the next customer.

—

The music is too loud for Jyn’s liking, so she shoves open the backdoor and sits out on the patio. Her hands dig into the deep trenches of her coat, catching hold of her box of cigarettes and lighter. The bud is between her teeth, the flame igniting between her fingers like a breathing flower before her.

The smoke exhales and mixes with the cold air, dances between everyone’s whispers and laughter, their drunken small talk and their hopes and fears.

Sometimes, she wonders why she even comes to these things but then thinks she really wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t friends with Leia as it is Han’s party, and therefore, if she really wants to pinpoint a source for her misery, it’s Han. He better be damn grateful she likes his girlfriend.

“Yeah, gimme a minute,” she hears a voice close in on her. “Hey, got a lighter?”

She looks up, sees a tall boy with dark hair. His eyes are trained on her cigarette, and he gives her a very shallow and tight-lipped smile.

“Sure,” she ends up saying because though she wants to lie, it won’t do much considering her cigarette looks brand spanking new and freshly lit. She hands him the lighter.

“Thanks,” he says. His skin tints orange at the sight of the flame, and she thinks for a moment she’s seen him somewhere before. The recognition passes almost immediately. Probably someone from class or something.

“Jyn!” Jyn turns at the sound of her name, sees Leia standing beside her with tired though brilliant eyes. “The party’s getting boring. Let’s head home.”

“Sounds good with me,” she says as she pulls herself up from the ground.

He tosses the lighter back to her and gives her a small thanks before he heads back to another crowd.

“Do you know Cassian?” Leia asks as Jyn follows her out towards the front of the house and to their parked car.

Jyn blinks. “Who?”

She turns her head and motions to the boy with her lighter.

“He borrowed my lighter.”

“Ah, I see.” Leia looks at the car momentarily before turning to meet her gaze. “You okay to drive?”

“Sober as a judge.”

—

Their eyes meet walking through a door. He’s walking into his next class. She’s leaving hers.

He stops for a moment, catches her gaze, and there’s a curious furrow between his brow as he tries to place her in a time and place and if possible, a name.

Confusion is only written across hers, and she shoulders past him before he can get a good look.

He shakes his head and takes his seat.

His friend is already sitting in his respective seat (they always choose the same ones, even if there are no names behind their chairs), decides to nudge him with an elbow, his voice excited and a little too enthusiastic for Cassian this early in the morning. “What was _that_?”

Cassian frowns. “What was _what_?”

Bodhi rolls his eyes and leans back, crosses his arms across his chest. “Please. You can’t fool me. I’m the master of observation, and _that_ was like, sparks or sex eyes or _something_.” He narrows his eyes, leans in warily. “You’re not like… dating and keeping it from me, right? ‘Cause that’d be all sorts of messed up.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“The eye thing! With the girl!”

“I don’t even know her,” he waves him off. “Just thought I recognized her somewhere, but couldn’t actually tell. Anyway, doesn’t matter. Did you do the assignment, by the way?”

Bodhi hastily straightens in his seat, eyes growing wild as he pulls out his laptop. “What? We had an assignment? How come he never reminds us of those things? Man, fuck.”

“It’s not due until next week, but I just—” Cassian winces when Bodhi slugs his shoulder. “Ow!”

“Don’t mess with me like that. You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Cassian gives him a glare. “It was a real question! The code is kinda difficult!”

“You have to add more context. ‘Did you do the assignment _that’s due next week_?’ You see how that makes all the difference? It matters! ‘Did you do the assignment’ versus ‘Did you do the assignment that’s due _next week_ ’—add the freaking context,” Bodhi grumbles to himself as he opens up his coding assignment. He looks at it momentarily, eyes squinting to read over the instructions, before turning to Cassian. He blinks.

Cassian closes his eyes, refrains from shaking his head. “Bodhi, you haven’t even started, have you?”

Bodhi shuts his laptop. “Nope. But you can try asking Luke.”

“He doesn’t even take this class!”

“I think we may be in a pinch, then.”

—

“Jyn, so—plans after graduation?”

Jyn groans. “Baze. Not this again. Let’s save this conversation for the winter holidays. For now, let’s enjoy our family breakfast—”

“That boy’s been staring at you,” Chirrut says with a grin.

“How can you even tell?” she murmurs, and she’s about to turn around to look when Chirrut stops her with a smack of his hand against hers. She flinches and rubs it warily, throwing him a glare.

“Don’t be a fool and make yourself obvious. Have we taught you nothing?”

Jyn rolls her eyes, but there’s an amused smile on her lips. “Okay, then which boy?”

“How would I know?” he barks a laugh. “I’m blind!”

“Sometimes, I am so tired of you,” she groans, dipping her head in her hands. Chirrut only chuckles in amusement to himself, and she swears he is mentally patting himself on the back for what he would most likely deem his oh-so-clever joke. Her eyes lift to meet Baze’s, and she tilts her head curiously. “You can tell me. Which one?”

Baze stares at her, then takes a sip from his mug of coffee. He peers out at the other tables for a split second before shaking his head, his voice low and gruff as he speaks. “They all look the same to me.”

She raises a brow. “All of them,” she says without conviction.

Chirrut claps on Baze’s back. “Come on, Baze. I know you can do better than that. He is the only one whose eyes have decided they have fallen in love.”

“Chirrut,” Jyn moans. “I don’t think love is in my books at the moment. I just want to see who it is.”

Baze frowns and mutters something under his breath—and Jyn thinks, she _thinks_ he says, _the things I do for the two of you_ —but decides to search again. It’s hardly a second before his eyes are back on his mug of coffee, his expression as complacent as she’s always known it to be.

“And?” Jyn presses.

“Our eyes met.” He pauses. “He has brown hair.”

“Brown hair? That’s all you got? ” she says incredulously. “But he saw you—now he knows that we know—”

“Jyn?”

“And he’s here!” Chirrut says cheerily, hitting the leg of the table with his cane lightly. “Great work, Baze. I knew you could do it.”

Jyn presses a hand to her forehead and groans internally before she turns around. She blinks. It’s a tall boy—man—boy-man figure with dark hair and fidgety eyes. She doesn’t recognize them. “Do I know you?”

“We have a class together—ancient Scarif history? I uh—I sit two or three seats over,” he says, swallows his words.

“Spit it out, boy!” Chirrut says. “If you have the courage to speak to a girl while she’s having breakfast with her parents, then you have the courage to ask her out. Embrace your fears, and you shall succeed.”

That seems to only make the nerves travel to the very ends of his body parts, his hands shoving themselves deeper into his pants. “I’m—um… That—”

“How about a name?” she prompts, looking up at him. “Don’t mind Chirrut. He likes to mess with everyone.”

“Ruescott. Ruescott Melshi,” he breathes out.

“Nice to meet you, Ruescott. Sorry I wasn’t aware of your name before,” she apologizes.

“No, that’s quite alright—”

“Order’s up,” a voice comes to their right with trays on both hands.

Jyn watches as her dish is delicately placed before her, and her stomach growls, a reminder of why she’s here—and that’s definitely not to secure a date with a boy from class. Though it’s nice, she thinks, to have a boy who likes her enough to think she’s worth being nervous around and stumbling over words. She’s never experienced that before.

But she likes having breakfast with her guardians, and she likes that it’s a private thing, so she turns to Ruescott with a smile. “Hey, I’ll catch you in class. And maybe you can give me your number then? We’re just… sort of busy right now.”

“Yeah, definitely, of course. I’ll uh, catch you in class, Jyn.” He nods emphatically, gives her a little wave, walks back to the table he had originally been at—he’s almost out of her mind as easily as he had appeared.

“So enthusiastic,” Baze mutters. “It’s too early for that.”

“I think it’s quite nice. It’s been a while since Jyn’s been on a date.” Chirrut waves to grab the server’s attention, who has been carefully manipulating himself to avoid their rather slightly awkward conversation. “Cassian, was it? Can we get refills on our coffees?”

“Sure thing, sir.” The server whisks himself around to grab the coffee pitcher.

“But did you really have to psych him out about the whole parents thing? Guardians could have sufficed.”

“Well, if I didn’t say it, he’d simply think you were talking to two old fellas who were irrelevant to the situation. But knowledge allows you to better present yourself.”

Baze barks a laugh. “There was no improvement if you ask me.”

“I’m done with this conversation,” she says with a drained voice. “Let’s move on. And I’ll start that by finding the ladies’ room.”

She excuses herself momentarily and heads towards the back. Her eyes peer through the crowd, her lips tipping down when she can’t find who she’s looking for. She keeps walking when she comes face to face with their server, almost stumbling forward into his hot pot of coffee. She sighs in relief when she recognizes his name tag. The name sounds familiar now that she’s reading it, but she pushes it to the back of her head.

“Cassian. Perfect, I was looking for you.”

Cassian raises a brow warily. “You… were…” He looks down at his pot and then looks back up. “I’m bringing the coffee now.”

“No, no,” she says quickly. She pulls out her wallet and her card before handing it to him. “I just wanted to make sure the meal goes on my card. I can give this to you now, right? It’s not… against the rules or anything, right? If I wait until you hand us our check, they’ll force me to put my card back into my wallet. And I—”

He laughs under his breath. “Yeah, I got it. Just…” he pauses as he uses his free hand to pull out the table’s checkbook. He takes the card from her and sticks it inside, looks at the name carefully. “Jyn Erso. There. The card’s in the checkbook, I know your name—there shouldn’t be any confusion when I run the bill at the end of your meal.” He closes it and sticks it back in his apron pocket.

When Cassian looks up, their eyes meet briefly, and something flickers in his gaze. Recognition or realization or maybe something in between—Jyn can’t put her finger on it. They stare at each other for a moment, and she’s searching for something, hoping if she looks hard enough, looks long enough, bells will begin to ring. There’s just… something about him—like she’s seen him somewhere before, has seen him somewhere in her life, but she can’t quite place where.

He’s definitively attractive enough that she doesn’t think she’d forget his face… Jyn purses her lips, humming with curiosity.

He clears his throat, startling her. “I’ll just uh… get your coffee to your parents.”

“Right… Um…” Jyn shakes her head briefly before throwing him a smile. “Perfect. Thank you.”

Jyn thinks she’s thinking too hard.

Really, she wasn’t thinking hard enough.

—

“Jyn, wake up.”

“Go away.”

“Jyn.”

She groans as she feels the blanket being torn off her body, air brushing against her bare skin. The hairs on her body rise with warning alongside tense goosebumps. Why did she choose to sleep in a tank and shorts? Stupid choice, Jyn. Stupid choice.

It’s too cold for this, whatever it is he wants this early in the morning. She turns around, buries her head under her pillow. “It’s too early.”

“It’s noon,” he says with what she swears is a roll of the eyes. “You promised me you’d wake up earlier today. Come on. It’s career fair. You said you’d go.”

She pulls the pillow down, hugs it to her chest. Her eyes stare at the cracks in her ceiling, follows the bumps and lines that disperse shadows against white walls. Career fair. She’s never been before, she doesn’t really want to start now. When did she make this promise? She doesn’t quite remember.

Ruescott tickles her feet, pokes at her toes as he stands at the end of her bed. “Babe, come on. You can’t sleep forever. There’s a life out there you need to figure out.”

She knows. She’s not blind, deaf, whatever it is that may potentially make him think she’d forget something like that. She’s just not… ready. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be ready, but she knows she’s not ready now. She hardly knows what she wants to do with her life, goddammit.

She pulls herself up and mutters, “I think I need a smoke.”

“Jyn, come on.”

She waves him off as she steps out onto the balcony, the blanket tight around her shoulders. Her fingers shake as she lights her cigarette. It’s too cold, but she wants it, that toxic inhale of nicotine. She leans forward on the fence. “I’ll be there, okay? Just… I’ll meet you there. Give me a minute.”

Jyn can feel his gaze on her back, but she doesn’t turn to meet it. She knows what he’s thinking—she’s better than this, smarter than this, why can’t she just try a bit harder and do something with her life? Why does she have to bum every moment of every day?

He’s disappointed in her.

Well, she had warned him when they had first started going out. _“Whatever it is you’ve built in your head—I’m probably not that. I may disappoint you.”_

 _“Unlikely,”_ he had laughed. _“Going out with you? I’ve always been watching, waiting. So pretty, Jyn. So smart. You’re like a dream come true, Jyn Erso.”_

But he was disappointed. She was sure.

To be honest, she never knew what it was he saw in her. She wasn’t extremely pretty or smart as he had said, had teeth too big for her mouth, and funky lips too heart shaped for her liking—frankly, she’d always thought she was boring in many ways. Starting, especially, with her appearance.

She’d always thought the only quirky quality she possessed was her fancy sounding accent. Which wasn’t that fancy, considering the multiple other accents that existed out there in the world—similar or not.

“I’ll see you later then,” he says in a quiet voice as he leaves her apartment. She hears the front door close behind him, really without any final goodbyes.

Jyn closes her eyes, inhales and lets the warmth fill her up in the dead of winter. The cigarette drags from her lips, and her eyes fall upon the cement sidewalk. It’s always been strange, she thinks, that she lives on the first floor and is still granted with a balcony. It’s like being granted with a gateway to the outside world—easily she could skip over the fence and out onto the sidewalk, and there was the city right before her.

It was great for people watching.

Also great for escaping moments through desperate measures.

If she was looking for privacy though, she probably wasn’t going to get it, but isn’t that what a bedroom was for?

Leia’s always told her to use the front door like a normal person, but then she’d have to walk through the lobby which is just quite unnecessary when leaving through her balcony is much faster.

Jyn pulls more tightly at her blanket. It was far too cold to be wearing a tank and shorts—what on earth was she thinking? She blows out a smoke, and is about to head inside when she drops her lighter on the other side of the balcony fence. She curses under her breath, tries to reach it from where she is.

“Curse my arms,” she growls as she steps on to the bottom edge of the fence and swings herself over. Except she should have known that it’s really difficult and rather complicated to jump over a fence with a blanket wrapped around you.

Which is kinda how she ends up sprawled on the cement sidewalk, her knee badly scraped against the concrete. She looks down and sees that she’s gotten blood all over her blanket. Great. All for a lighter. At least she got the lighter, feeling the cool metal in her hand, finger pads tracing over the small “g” and “e” etched into its surface.

Well, it was an expensive one—so she feels she’s a bit justified.

“Are… you okay?” she hears a voice from above. Then she feels a warm furry body next to her, and she turns to the side to see a pair of large sneaker-ed feet and a tall, skinny greyhound sniffing at her. It licks her elbow before making a face and taking two steps back, a low growl at the back of its throat. The leash attached to its neck tugs just a bit. “Kaytoo. Stop.”

When she finally looks up, she’s sure, more than ever, that she’s seen this boy before. Dark hair, dark eyes, a permanent furrow between his brows and around the edges of his lips. She can’t remember his name—God forbid—but she’s definite this time, his features are too distinguished for her to forget.

“You okay?” he repeats, seemingly much more hesitant. He leans down and helps her up from the ground, worry etched in the lines of his skin. His grip is tight at her elbow, his hands carefully manipulating her blanket. He scans her face quickly and the potential injuries lain across her body. “You’re… the girl with the check. Jyn, isn’t it?”

“Are you following me?” she finally blurts.

He raises a brow, and she swears a half-snort, half-smirk dances across his lips and out of his mouth. “Nice to see you too, although I’m sure there are more pressing matters at hand.” He looks behind her to see her balcony door still open. “That you?”

She turns and follows his gaze, then nods.

“I’ll help you over,” he says as he ties Kaytoo to the bar of her fence.

“I’m fine,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Just bleeding.”

He nods but doesn’t look at all convinced as he mutters, “Just bleeding. Yeah, right,” under his breath. His hand is behind her back as he guides her to the fence. “Come on. Up you go.”

“I am not a child,” she snaps.

“I never said you were.” He pauses. “But you are injured, so come on.”

She’s over the fence in a matter of seconds with his help. He leans forward, his hands gripping tightly on the metal bar, and before she knows it, he’s climbing over it himself, landing neatly beside her. She narrows her eyes. “What are you—”

He simply shakes his head, turning to tell his dog he’ll be back in a jiffy, he just needs to fix the girl up.

“I can do it myself, you know.”

“I’m sure you can,” he says simply. He nods to her door. “Can I walk in, or are you really going to decline my offer?”

Jyn frowns. “I don’t even know your name.”

“The more you argue, the longer your knee will bleed.”

“Well, then, answer my question.”

He raises a brow. “Was there a question?”

She sighs in exasperation and glares at him. “You know what I m—Never mind, forget it. Come on in.”

He grins cheekily. “With pleasure.”

She learns—officially this time—his name is Cassian, and if she thinks long and hard enough, she swears she’s heard the name before. She doesn’t know why she can’t seem to remember it.

He’s out almost as soon as he’s in, helps her clean her wound and bandage it up. He waves his goodbyes as he climbs over the fence and unties Kaytoo from the bar.

Jyn almost forgets about him as soon as he leaves—worried and busied by the shouldering weight of career fairs and career choices, and she knows she’s gotta make it in time for recruitment. She’s never been one to break a promise. Her wound and Cassian are the last thing on her mind as she presses her blazer down her shoulders and her pencil skirt against her thighs, carefully working around the wrapped bandage.

She almost forgets about him, but this time, she doesn’t.

—

Cassian isn’t expecting visitors.

So when there’s a knock on the door, he stares at it for a moment, listening to Kaytoo as he presses his paws against the wood. Confusion settles in the pit of his stomach as he puts his dinner down on the coffee table and heads to open the door.

“Jyn,” he says with surprise, eyes slightly wide and voice just slightly amused. Kaytoo growls at her until Cassian kneels down and rubs his ears, coaxing him to behave. Finally, he stands back up, leans back with his arms crossed. “Are you following me?”

“Cassian? You’re not…” Jyn doesn’t react to the words he tosses at her—the same comeback she had tossed him only weeks ago, merely squints at him then behind his shoulder. The knit between her brows don’t disappear, and her lips quirk into a frown as she takes a few steps back to examine the number on the door. “I…” She peers down at her phone before she looks around the corridor. “I’m sure this is the right address…”

“I can be the judge of that. What are you looking for?”

“I…” Jyn shakes her head and clears her throat. “I was looking for Luke?”

He raises a brow. “Skywalker?”

She nods. “I’m here to pick something up.”

“He’s not home, but why don’t you come in?” Cassian says as he opens the door wider for her to step inside. She does, though hesitantly, her feet just only barely padding across the floor. Cassian’s eyes trail after her, and he swears he can feel Kaytoo scrutinizing his every move. Angrily.

She turns to look at him with a funny expression. “You live with Luke?”

He nods, shoves his hands in his sweats. “There’s three of us,” he explains though she hadn’t really asked. “You need to wait for him? I think he should be home soon. He’s at work right now.”

“Interesting,” she murmurs as she looks around the room. “So this is how the other twin lives.”

“Sorry?”

“I live with Leia,” she says with a smile, eyes twinkling. “I’m here to grab something for her, actually. What a coincidence, right? That it’s taken this long for us to meet, and yet our own roommates are siblings.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs absently, unable to remove his gaze from her figure and her smile. His mind is slightly whirring at the sound of the word ‘coincidence’—and what a coincidence, he thinks. But too many coincidences makes him think twice if anything had been a coincidence at all, if the signs or the stars were trying to tell him something too ridiculous to believe.

Once—one meeting, a chance, an accident. Twice, dumb luck. Three times, then we’re talking coincidence.

Anything more than three… well that could only mean the simple pursuit of Fate.

He doesn’t know what the hell number they’re at, but he isn’t sure he wants to know.

Or if he believes in any of it at all.

“It is interesting, isn’t it?” he finally says.

And all Jyn does is smile, and Cassian is grateful she can’t hear the chaos currently in his head.

—

Jyn bites her lip as she stares at her computer, her eyes trained over the official logo of the AIA. She’s startled when she hears a familiar voice distantly behind her and moves to quickly exit her browser before he can see what she’s been browsing. She hates talking careers with Ruescott because, for some irritating reason, he can’t ever be on board with how she wants to approach her life, and she hates being pushed and being nagged as if what she’s doing right now isn’t enough.

So she’s a little lost. Who isn’t?

“Hey, babe,” he greets as he kisses her on the cheek and sets his bag across the table from her. “What were you doing?”

She smiles weakly. “Just… you know, life stuff.”

He grins. “Yeah? Tell me about it. Are you finally done bumming around?”

“I…” Jyn swallows thickly, her eyes fluttering to the empty screen of her laptop. She thinks of the AIA logo, and she knows it’s not something she wants to discuss aloud yet. Not with him, who considers her worries simply ‘bumming around.’ “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

When she looks up, she can physically see the smile in his eyes die. His lips are smiling, but that only makes her feel worse because she knows it’s not real, and it’s definitely not meant for her. She begins to pack up her things, shuts down her laptop and stuffs it in her bag.

“Where are you going?” he asks after a moment.

“I’m going home,” she says softly. She swings the bag over her shoulders, and he’s up before she can take a step. “What?”

“Why are you always like this?” Ruescott asks, irritation taking his voice a notch higher. She eyes the people around her, and she’s sure they’re only mostly pretending to mind their own business but also probably listening in on a discussion she doesn’t even want to have. “You never want to talk. You brush everything off, you brush _me_ off—”

“I don’t want to have this discussion here,” she says in a tired voice, warily eyeing the student center and everyone who is making a point to avoid direct contact.

“I’m just trying to help you, Jyn! You never care about what’s going to happen in the future—you’re _always_ bumming around, and you never take initiative to do anything with your life. It’s like you don’t have a purpose for anything—”

“You’re not my dad,” she snaps, her voice firm as she glares at him. “I have two of them, and I’ll turn to them if I need the life advice. And so what? Maybe I’m a little lost right now, and maybe I _don’t_ know what to do with my life, but we all have different paces, and maybe I’m a bit behind everyone else. So _what_?”

Ruescott’s eyes go wide, and Jyn is positive he’s never seen this side of her. Angry and snappy and—well, she’s never been a nicey, nice girl either, but this, this ferocity in her soul and her heart. She’s positive this is something he has never expected of her. And she knew it, then when he had first asked her out, that she was always going to disappoint him, was never going to be who he was looking for.

But she always thought it was nice trying.

“Jyn, you’re just being difficult. The isn’t like you. I just want to make sure you’re going somewhere and doing something with life. There’s a future out there, and I’m concerned you’re not paying attention to it—”

“Look,” she says, her fingers pressing to her temples, “I’m glad you’re worried about me. It’s sweet, and I got it the first time around, and I understand you’re trying to help me. But it doesn’t help when you constantly bring me down! I’m not ready yet, and I still have another year and a half to figure it out, so _please_ , Ruescott—let me breathe a little!”

“Babe, come on—”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

He grabs her hand, his voice pleading. “Don’t do this, Jyn—”

“Don’t, Ruescott!” she bites out as she pulls at her arm. She stares at him for a moment and shakes her head. “I need space. Don’t talk to me for a while. I just… this isn’t working.”

“Babe—”

Jyn walks away before she can hear the rest because she’s not in the mood, and she’s just so goddamn tired of him making her feel worthless and a disappointment. She’s had enough of that in her life. She doesn’t need more.

She feels the tears before they actually come.

She hasn’t cried in a long, long time, and she hasn’t cried about a _boy_ in a long, long time. She can’t believe she’s even crying in public. The tears blur her vision, and now everyone looks like a little blob, and suddenly she’s in the middle of the student center crying her eyes out. She wants to be fierce dammit—she doesn’t have time for these kind of feelings—, but she _hates_ this wrecked emotion, like she’s not good enough for the world, not good enough for anyone, like she’s a speck of dust consumed by a planet too large.

Suddenly there’s two big blobs in front of her, and Jyn wipes her eyes. Who— “Luke?”

“And Cassian!” Luke says cheerily as he takes her by the shoulder and guides her out the doors. “Nothing to see here, folks!”

“Cassian?” she murmurs. She tilts her head to the side, makes out his weary face beside Luke’s, his body decked out in blue fleece and fur. She doesn’t know how he always makes it to a time and place she least expects him. What a freaking coincidence. “Why are you always following me?”

“Good question,” Cassian mutters before pausing. “But I’m not following you—Luke, I am not following her, don’t give me that look dammit.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he says, shrugging. He looks down at her, and Jyn straightens her shoulders out. She hates being pitied— _hates_ it—and she finds it extremely odd to be taken under the wing by these two boys she only kind of knows. “That was quite the scene back there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters.

“Suit yourself,” he says, shrugging as he squeezes her shoulder. “Want me to call Leia?”

“I’ll talk to her later when I get home,” she says, sighing. Jyn wipes her eyes a bit, but her heart squeezes. It’s strange—it’s not really Ruescott that she’s bitter about but this looming future ahead of her when she doesn’t even know where she is now. Unfortunately for her, it just happened to take the physical form of… her boyfriend. “I just… I want a smoke. Or a drink.”

“Alright—let’s do it! We can go to a bar tonight,” Luke says, and he begins talking in such excited motion that Jyn ends up tuning him out.

She feels a hand gently touch her arm, and she turns and meets Cassian’s eyes. He has a somber seriousness about him that is so starkly different from Luke that it almost makes her want to smile, but she doesn’t.

“Just for the record—everyone has a different pace in life.”

Jyn doesn’t know what she had expected for him to say, but it’s definitely not that. It brings a smile to her face. “Thanks, Cassian.”

“Sure thing, Jyn Erso.”

—

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Jyn looks up from her car seat, blinks furiously as she makes contact with a pair of amused dark eyes. Her phone drops to her lap as his name pops to the forefront of her mind. It’s hard to forget him now, almost completely impossible. “Cassian,” she says hesitantly.

He doesn’t answer, mainly takes a couple of steps back from her car to scan the damage. “Flat tire?”

“What are you doing here?” she asks as she opens her door and steps out from the driver’s seat.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says with a shrug. His eyes meet hers with a twinkle. “I’m spending a portion of my break in Jedha with a friend. A bit convenient, isn’t it?”

“A bit too convenient,” she murmurs under her breath.

He turns his head at the sound of a bark, and Jyn follows his movements. Kaytoo, if she remembers that correctly. The greyhound eagerly hangs out the passenger side of his rusty, old sedan. His voice brings her back to her, indeed, flat tire. “I think I have some tools in the back of my car—”

“It’s okay,” she says in a rush. “I called insurance—”

“I mean, if you really want to wait for them to come, I won’t stop you. But I’m already here.”

Jyn hesitates but only for a second. Then calls to cancel roadside service. She’s, unfortunately, had this experience before and was stuck on the side of the road for two hours waiting. It doesn’t help that the road to head home for the break is, quite literally, in the middle of nowhere.

Cassian has his tools out and under her tire before she even ends the phone call. She watches him crank the tool, eyes following the sinewy muscles down his arms. She shakes her head gently and crouches beside him.

“I _do_ know how to change a flat tire,” she says after a moment because she feels that it needs to be said. Saw had taught her so long ago, all the patterns and traits of someone who felt it necessary to learn all possible survival skills. She hates this feeling of being saved, of being a damsel in distress—it’s not something she likes, and she doesn’t like the look of it on her. It makes her feel useless, and she never wants to feel useless. “The tools broke so long ago, and I never went out of my way to replace them.”

“That’s nice,” is all he says. He looks at her briefly for a moment before shaking his head. “I mean, even if you didn’t, it doesn’t really matter.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Never said that,” he laughs softly under his breath. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” He pauses, sighing. “I’m just saying—it’s not bad either way. Happens to anyone—even the best of us who know how to change tires but have broken tools.”

Jyn considers his words, then considers him. Finally, “Thanks, by the way.”

He looks up and eyes her carefully. She’s not sure what he’s reading on her face, but her heart warms just a bit when a small smile breaks on his lips. “Sure thing, Jyn Erso.”

—

He’s been thinking about her a lot.

A lot as in—a little way too much for his liking.

And he’s only met her four or five times, now.

He can’t help but feel he keeps bumping into her at the most inconveniently convenient times, too often for him to write it off as pure coincidence. The word “fate” keeps twirling in the back of his head, and he, quite frankly, wishes it would disappear because he’s never believed in something as ridiculously cheesy as fate.

He had tried asking Bodhi about it the other night, but the most he had gotten from him was that the belief in fate was akin to the belief in aliens—which meant, not really. (Though Cassian was pretty positive that deep down, Bodhi believed in aliens and therefore, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if he believed in fate too. Secretly, anyway.)

“Cassian,” Bodhi says as he peeks his head into the guest bedroom of his sister’s house.

“Yeah, what is it?” Cassian murmurs as he pulls himself up from the bed. Kaytoo lies at the foot, his head perking at the sight of his master. Cassian leans forward to scratch the back of his ears.

“You asleep already?”

“Not asleep,” he says, yawning. “But it’s late.”

“Seriously, man? It’s New Year’s Eve. And it’s only ten! Let’s do something.”

Cassian closes his eyes momentarily, thinks of all the the possible events that could occur for New Year’s Eve in Jedha—a quite dreadful holiday, really—and drops his head on the pillow. “I think I’ll pass.”

Bodhi ignores him as he flicks on the lights. “There’s a party at an old friend’s house. We’re going.”

This is how he finds himself face-to-face with Jyn Erso for what he thinks is the sixth time.

He’s beginning to think fate is more palpable than either he or Bodhi had originally believed.

At this point, too many coincidences is a message Cassian’s wondering can be ignored.

—

He almost kisses her at midnight.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asks, snapping the lid and passing her a bottle of beer.

She sits beside him, curled in a coat too large to be hers. His words tumble in her head—does she believe in fate?

If she believes in fate, then she believes it was the universe who had decided to take her parents away from her at a young age, that there was a purpose to their death, that she was meant to be abandoned by Saw at sixteen. She supposes, in a way, that it has lead her—though by a miserable childhood—to a fortunate life.

She’s always been grateful to have Chirrut and Baze as her legal guardians, however that came about.

But fate means it’s been decided from the beginning, before she was born.

She likes to think she’s had a hand in her life up until now.

So to this, she responds, “Only coincidences that are up to you.”

He looks at her so seriously, she wonders if she’s said the right thing. “So this—our constant chance encounters—you think it’s a coincidence?”

Her brows pull together as she considers his words. “I’ve never really thought much about them, if I’m being honest. They’re encounters between two people—”

“Two people who are complete strangers, meeting at the most inconveniently convenient time,” he points out. “And often.”

“Well, maybe,” she says slowly, “but in my head, it’s simply a chance encounter. Something happens, and everything surrounding that event responds because we’re human. A domino effect, if you will. And we just happened to be there at the right time and place.”

There's a fire behind Cassian’s eyes that Jyn doesn’t know how to take. And though their conversation has turned… interesting, she’s not quite sure if she’s up to fall into this heavy debate at a party. She has a feeling he’s trying to tell her something she’s not quite ready to hear, and she almost stands up when he speaks quietly.

“I just don’t get it,” he says under his breath, his gaze softening as he scans her face. “I’m trying to live my life—normally, mind you—but then everywhere I go, I look up and… there you are. And it’s like I can’t stay away.”

She freezes, feels her ears get too hot and her brain a bit too fuzzy.

“I think fate is trying to say something,” he whispers.

Jyn feels like she can’t breathe for just a split second, like the air between them has drifted away, leaving nothing but heavy space. And when he leans in, her mind can’t seem to warp away from his words and then his lips, and she wonders if he can hear her heartbeat, so loud she’s sure even the deaf can hear.

But then she blinks, and she remembers where she is and who she’s with and what he’s talking about, and Jyn pulls back. In seconds, she’s on her feet, and she’s staring at him in quiet disbelief, wondering why he’s saying what he’s saying and why the air feels so heavy, she can’t seem to breathe.

She doesn’t say anything, merely closes her eyes for just a moment.

“Jyn—”

Then she’s out the door, and she doesn’t look back.

—

“Don’t—” Jyn takes in a deep breath and then exhales what she can only determine as steam. “Don’t follow me to work.”

“Jyn, hear me out.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong for me to hear about,” she says simply. Her eyes overlook his shoulders at the next customer. Well, at his shoulders, but when she stands on her toes, she can definitely make eye contact with the person behind him. “If you’re not going to buy anything, can you move? You’re holding up the line.”

Cassian turns to the man behind him—the only one. Some line. “I’ll pay for you. Tell her what you want.”

“Cassian—”

But he has his wallet out and cash on the table before she has the chance to protest. “I’ll take a large coffee, too.” Cassian sighs, his fingers clenching at the end of the counter. “Two minutes, Jyn Erso.”

She glares at him and prints out his receipt. “How did you know where I work?”

“Luke.”

Jyn curses Luke, and she curses that he’s Cassian’s roommate and Leia’s twin brother.

“Two minutes, Jyn,” he says softly.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “One.”

“Okay, I’ll take what I can get,” he agrees, nodding. He pauses for a second, considering his words. Then blurts, “Look, I think the universe is trying to tell us something—”

“Not this again,” she says with a sigh, frowning. “It’s been two weeks."

“Jyn, listen. I don’t think I believe in coincidence. And I never thought I’d say I believe in fate. But I can’t—” he groans in frustration, running his fingers through his hair. “Sometimes, I can’t tell if I’m hallucinating or making things up, but I keep seeing the same girl— _you_ —everywhere I go. There are too many moments, and sometimes, I’m not even sure it’s you, but then I meet you the next time, and I don’t think it could have been anyone else. It’s too many coincidences—it’s not natural. And I… ”

“It’s life, Cassian. Life is made up of moments of pure coincidence. I think you need to move on.” Her hands shake, so she stuffs them in her apron. _Fate?_ Fate is a silly and cheesy notion pulled out of romance novels. She doesn’t believe in something like that—doesn’t know why he keeps trying to tell her something as heavy and as burdening as synchronized paths.

 _We’re just strangers!_ she screams internally.

Fate ties them together, when she hardly even knows him.

And what if he decides he doesn’t like her back?

What does Fate say then?

It’s too much for her. Too serious for her.

He shakes his head slowly and stares at her. His voice is low when he finally speaks, “I think the universe is trying to tell us something, and that’s ridiculous—I know. I know how it sounds. But I can’t shake off that feeling, and I don’t want to regret not even trying.”

“Cassian…” Jyn is shaking her head. His words feel like an arrow through her chest, and she hates it because she doesn’t even know him, barely knows more than the fact that he has a dog and apparently believes in fate. Chance encounters couldn’t equivocate to fate—not for Jyn. Never for her. “This is too much for me, okay? You… you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Her eyes scan over his face, and his seriousness of their… intertwined fate overwhelms her.

“I barely even know you,” she whispers. “And you’re trying to tell me that… that our lives are meant to be together? That the universe is drawing us together or… or _something_. I don’t even know you, and I... I feel like you’ve just told me we’re soulmates. I don’t believe in soulmates.”

His gaze burns through her as she watches him sift through what she can offer, which isn’t much. He doesn’t seem angry, simply sad that it’s come to this, that he’s been convinced of this, and he can’t do the same for her.

“I think it’s best if we avoid each other,” she says quietly after a moment.

The expression on his face, at first, is grim. But then Cassian smiles softly and nods. “If that’s what you want, Jyn Erso,” he whispers.

It is what she wants. At least in that moment.

He leans forward and presses the back of his hand to her cheek. She allows it because she’s sure this is the end—the end of what, she’s not quite sure. “Que sera, sera,” he murmurs.

She has to convince herself this is what she wants.

At least for the next six years of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there should be 2 more parts (maybe just one if i can condense it), and the second part is less about the mundane college life as it's 6 years in the future.... thanks for reading if you've made it this far! :)
> 
> AIA: Alliance Intelligence Agency


	2. hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while and my writing style kinddaaa changed between chapter 1 and 2 so apologizing for choppiness
> 
> AIA is modeled after CIA

**ii. hope**

He thinks about Jyn Erso only about forty percent of the time.

Sixty if you’re asking Bodhi and thirty if you’re asking Luke. A hundred if you’re asking Kaytoo, but since most can’t understand him, no one will really ever know except for Cassian.

Not that it quite matters because it’s been decided that no matter how often he thinks of her, no matter how much he believes the universe gives you signs for a reason—it is clear that Jyn Erso does not feel the same way nor wants to feel the same way. 

Which is fine. 

Life moves on, and Cassian knows that. He knows that he cannot dwell on something that was completely built on hope and hope alone. 

But that has never stopped him from that fleeting feeling that often simmers through his body. 

Because a single glimmer of hope is still a very powerful thing.

—

He’s on a subway platform when he sees her stepping inside a train. 

And Cassian _knows_ it’s her—it couldn’t be anyone else though he swears for maybe a split second, he’s hallucinating. But the curve of her cheek bones, the definitive line of her jaw, the color of her eyes—they are unmistakeable, and Cassian almost drops the phone in his hand when she turns, and they make eye contact.

Her eyes widen with recognition.

His mouth grows dry. “Jyn?”

He blinks himself back into reality when he hears Bodhi on the other line. “Jyn? I haven’t heard that name in years but—were you listening at all? I was talking about the new case—” But Cassian doesn’t have time to explain, and Bodhi’s words begin to blur together. All he can think about is what Jyn could possibly be doing in Hoth all these years later, and how all these years later, she is now standing in front of him.

He moves forward to push through the crowd so that he can get on the train before the doors close. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he gets there, but getting there is a start, and he just wants to bridge the moment before it’s out of his grasp, before he doesn’t get the chance to meet her again. 

But the floor begins to vibrate under his feet as the train shifts into gear, and he’s standing at the edge of the platform watching her gaze shrink with each passing second. He curses under his breath as he watches the train trail away until it is but a speck in the dark.

“Cassian, you still there?” Bodhi asks.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he murmurs as he blends back into the crowd. 

“What happened? You disappeared for a moment.”

“Nothing,” Cassian says in a low voice as he leans himself against the wall. “Just an almost something.”

—

She’d be lying if she said she’d forgotten him.

Truth is, he’s never really left her mind. 

And sometimes, she does dwell on the _what ifs_ but tries incredibly hard not to because it was she who turned him down “at the hands of fate,” not the other way around. She doesn’t really think she deserves to dwell on it at all. 

But it is hard to not think about what life would have been like had she decided to believe the universe was saying something—something about them, if life had been any different at all. 

So to see him—a glimpse of him anyway—at a subway in Hoth almost blows her mind, and an itchy, sinking feeling curdles in her stomach. She doesn’t want to believe she had missed her moment, but sometimes, that’s what it feels like, and she hates herself for thinking that way. 

But that doesn’t mean she wants to bump into him again. Not really, anyway. Not after—what, six years now?

Forget it. She’s got better things on her mind—like her new job offer she recently received, and the fact that she’s moved cities away from Leia who is moving rather far up in the political game and here Jyn is now starting completely anew without her, and the fact that Chirrut and Baze are too many cities away, and it actually kills her. 

Cassian is the last person on her mind. The _last_.

—

“What’s Hoth like?”

“Cold.”

Jyn says this as she tightens her scarf ‘round her neck and stuffs it down the front of her wool coat. She’s still shivering despite this, but her feet shuffle back and forth as she attempts to bring the warmth back into her body. Her phone is pressed up against her ear as she moves through the city when the sign flashes for pedestrians. 

Shoes scuffle against concrete, and Jyn watches as crowds pass her by. 

“Cold and busy,” she amends. 

Chirrut laughs—she’s sure, mainly, to himself. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” she admits, huffing as she pulls open the door to a coffee shop, soaking in the warmth that fills her body. She tugs at her scarf with her free hand, unravels it from her neck until it’s hanging loosely to her knees. “I’ve never been good at… staying put.”

“You have been looking at this opportunity for years now, Jyn. There is everything to fear, but everything in life falls into place so long as you do not fear moving forward. If this is what you believe is worth fighting for, you will prosper, I’m sure.” A small smile slips into place on her lips. She closes her eyes, truly and wholly misses them. Chirrut pauses, and she hears him speaking with Baze on the other line for a moment, and then he's back. “Baze says, everything will be tough, but you will be tougher. You always have been.”

“Thank you,” she says. Sometimes it’s not enough, but right now, she hopes it is.

“It is always a pleasure to know that we have made you smile,” he says, and she’s glad he’s always able to tell despite the distance, despite the inability to press his fingers across her face and visualize it underneath his touch. She’s glad he can read her, so simply, just like that. 

And then he’s gone, and she’s looking up to order a cup of coffee when she sees him.

He’s seen her first because his eyes are directly on her, and they’re not moving away.

The world seems to still around her, the once bustling shop coming to a complete silence, like a swirling static to her ear and a pounding to her heart. When their gazes meet, he smiles gently before he’s shaking his head, and there’s something there, something strange, something a lot like… _hope_. 

He takes a step forward, and she almost, _almost_ takes a step back.

But she’s grown a lot since her college years, so she forces herself to stay put. 

“How do you like your coffee?” he asks casually, hands stuffed in the pockets of his thick blue parka. It looks familiar, that parka, but she doesn’t say so. That would mean she’s remembered him, thought of him a lot.

She hasn’t.

Not really. 

“Black.”

He nods and doesn’t say much else. 

Then he’s back with two cups of coffee in his hands and presses one into her grasp. His eyes are firm, ready to take her on if she refuses his offer. She almost rejects it, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know why, exactly, but she doesn’t. 

“I’ll see you around, Jyn Erso,” he says softly, and then he’s out the door. 

Seconds pass by with her gaze lingering so carefully on the spot he had been only moments before. She turns back to her cup of coffee.

It’s not fate, she tells herself.

It’s not fate.

It’s simply a little bit of hope. 

—

He thinks he’ll live on that notion, hope.

—

“We’re assigning a new recruit under you,” Mothma says when Cassian walks into the agency. 

“I don’t need a partner,” he says as he moves through the corridors until they’re standing underneath the door of his office. He narrows his eyes at the file in her hand before raising to meet her gaze. “I’m not a trainer.”

Mothma merely arches an eyebrow before dropping the file on his desk. “New recruit,” she repeats firmly, her voice giving no room for argument. “You’ll be her commanding officer. She comes in first thing tomorrow.”

Cassian doesn’t argue because he’s just never been that sort, and frankly, he’s what Bodhi calls the worst kind of rule follower. “The kind without a backbone,” he always says. Which is the worst kind of insult, really, but again, Cassian doesn’t argue because he’s just never been that sort. 

Mothma leaves without another word, closing the door behind her. 

He sighs and sinks into his seat before opening the file.

He freezes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

_Jyn Erso_.

As if the stars hadn’t already told him to give up.

—

“It’s not fate,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth when she sees him on the other side of the desk the next morning. She narrows her eyes because of all the people she could possibly meet when she applied for the AIA all those months ago, went through rigid training all that time, it just _had_ to be him. 

Of course it would be. 

Of course he’d be her commanding officer. 

She shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Hello to you too,” Cassian says as he stops writing and drops his pen in a cupholder. He looks up. “It’s been a while, Jyn.”

“Cassian,” she says curtly as she takes a seat opposite him. “A while as in, I bumped into you just the other day. You’re not following me, are you?”

He raises a brow as he leans back in his chair. His gaze doesn’t move from hers, observing quietly, shifting from head to toe. Jyn squirms just slightly under his scrutiny. Finally, “I’m your commanding officer, and you’re asking _me_ if I’m following _you_?”

Jyn only glares at him but doesn’t say much else. “How long have you been in the AIA?”

“About a couple of years after graduation.” He tilts his head. “I didn’t know you were interested in being an AIA officer.”

“You didn’t know anything about me,” she says quietly, furrowing her brows, feels her very well constructed wall back in front of her. 

Cassian doesn’t respond. The silence is long, and there is an elephant pressing against her body, begging her to address it. She doesn’t want to, so she’ll continue to pretend like it doesn’t exist. There’s no need to bring up the past—to bring up _that_. 

_The stupid hands of fate._

There’s a knowing glint in his eyes, a somber one, and then he’s leaning forward, his elbows pressing against the oaken desk. His hands clasp together against his lips. “Jyn—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His gaze doesn’t stray, and the silence continues. Jyn feels like she’s suffocating in it. Finally he nods. “I’m sorry. The past is the past,” he says. “I won’t bring it up. A clean slate, okay?”

“A clean slate,” she echoes. “Thank you.”

“Sure thing, Jyn Erso.”

—

“Is she—”

“Yes.”

“The one where you—”

“Yes.”

“Did you guys—”

“ _Bodhi_.” Cassian drops his head into the palms of his hands, lets out an exhale of frustration. The condensation on the glass beer bottle trickles to the wooden table. “Nothing happened. Nothing will _ever_ happen. It was just something from back when I was stupid and young and a little too hopeful—”

“You talked about her a lot,” Bodhi interrupts wryly as he brings his bottle to his mouth, sipping. Then he’s sliding it, back and forth, hand to hand across the table, like a hockey puck for a player of one. They’re silent for a moment, and Bodhi considers his words cautiously. Then, “There’s nothing wrong with being hopeful.” 

He’s looking at him with a pointed expression, and Cassian wonders if that’s true—that there’s nothing wrong with being hopeful. But he doesn’t really think that fits well with Jyn. After all, he doesn’t know her so what could he possibly be hoping for? 

“It’s not like that with Jyn. I don’t know why I ever thought it would be.”

“I’m just saying—you’re working with each other now. Somewhere, even after all these years, something brought you back together. Maybe you’ve lost hope, but something out there obviously hasn’t,” Bodhi says, leaning back in his seat. Then he’s shrugging. “But don’t listen to me. That could just be the beer talking.”

Even though he knows he shouldn’t, for a moment, Cassian hopes it isn’t.

—

Jyn tries to avoid him where she can, even though he _is_ her commanding officer.

Meaning, she can’t avoid him much, if at all. 

But she tries.

She tries because every time he crosses her mind, every time she sees his goddamn face, she thinks back to her junior year of college and— _“I think fate is trying to say something.”_ She doesn’t want to believe that because it’s ridiculous—a terribly stupid, incredibly naive notion, but sometimes it’s hard not to consider it when he’s here, in front of her, working with her, physically manifested out of nowhere six years later.

She wants to believe in coincidence.

But it is such an incredibly eerie coincidence that, even without contact all these years, they’ve somehow both ended up in a fight neither expected the other to appear in. 

Jyn tries not to let it burrow too deeply in the back of her mind, or it’ll nestle itself like an endless black hole.

So she busies herself instead, where she can; offers to sideline small tasks, where she can; help unjam the printer, where she can; go on coffee runs, where she can. Even though Jyn knows this is far below her pay grade and a little low considering her status as an officer, she _is_ new and sometimes thinks it’s worth it, to avoid him even if just for thirty minutes or less. 

She can’t avoid him forever. Jyn is completely aware. 

She’s stuck with him when they’re being briefed for cases, is forced to tag along for surveillance—their conversations are stilted, at best, and there’s an air of tensity she’s never known how to break, but sometimes, someone else is with them too. Usually it’s Bodhi, and for this, she is grateful. 

Bodhi is quirky in his own ways, cheerful in most, sometimes a little anxious if he dwells on a moment too long. But Bodhi looks at her with curious eyes, and somehow, she feels that he knows more than she’d like him to know. He never says anything, but it’s the way his gaze lingers a second more before hovering over to Cassian or the way he will casually drop his name like a bomb to watch her shoulders grow stiff—Jyn is sure Bodhi is a schemer at heart, which, she thinks, is why he specializes in strategic analysis. 

Still, Bodhi is somewhere to focus her energy, and it’s always lighter when he’s around, better. 

She didn’t think Cassian would be blind to it, of course. She simply didn’t think he would care.

Until he does.

“You’re avoiding me.” 

His tone is casual, but his eyes are anything but. He says this as he leans against the counter of the copy machine room, watches as she kicks the machine in frustration. The goddamn machine would jam now, of _course_. Jyn huffs, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, and Cassian doesn’t move. She wishes he would.

“I saw you just the other day,” she says, keeping her tone light. White knuckles clench the side of the machine, and she fiddles with the mechanism for what feels like the hundredth time. “We had a conversation.”

She doesn’t dare look at him.

She’s sure, if she did, he would simply raise a brow at her. Their conversation—if you could even call it a conversation—was pitiful, considering the only words exchanged were “Jyn” and “Cassian,” both with a nod. 

Cassian sighs before walking over to her side, and she stills when his arm brushes hers. He moves to make a few jerky jabs at the machine, hands slamming against the side before it comes alive, humming loudly and spitting her papers out in repetitive motion. “She’s old. Needs some jostling, but she works. You would think a government facility would have enough money for a new one.”

“I could have done it myself,” she says immediately. 

“I know,” he says. Then he takes a step back before heading for the door. He stops at the doorway, and Jyn can visualize him in her peripherals, is wondering why he just won’t _leave_. He lingers for a moment, then slaps his hand against the frame. The noise jerks her head up towards him, and he’s staring, his jaw slightly clenched. His voice is soft though, almost borderline cautious. “If you’re here for the long haul, you need to work with me, Jyn. We’re working together, whether we want to or not.”

“I’m aware,” she says faintly.

“Then I hope you’ll start trusting me and stop avoiding me.”

Then he’s out the door, and Jyn finds herself staring at the empty spot for a second too long. 

—

Kaytoo is growling, and Kaytoo doesn’t growl very often. 

Cassian bends to scratch his ear, fingers pressed lightly against his short gray fur. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he murmurs, coaxing him until the greyhound falls back on his hind legs. He follows his dog’s line of sight until he sees the object of Kaytoo’s animosity. “Jyn.”

He doesn’t mean to say her name aloud, but when she lifts her head at the sound, he knows it’s too late to take it back. 

“I’ll call you later, Leia,” he hears her say before she’s standing from the bench and tucking her phone back into her pocket. Hesitation dances in her gaze as her feet shuffle back and forth, hands tucked in her coat, a war raging in her head. Jyn seems to come to a decision and moves towards him, and Cassian finds a tension he hadn’t even known existed lift from his shoulders. 

It’s a conscious effort on her part to not flash panic and run at the sight of him, and it’s a start. Cassian will give her that.

He hears the growl rumble lower in Kaytoo’s throat and moves to rub against his side. “Shh. It’s okay. She’s a friend.” Sort of. 

“Cassian,” she greets, her voice faltering at the sound of his greyhound. She eyes the dog warily. “He doesn’t like me.”

“He…” Cassian hesitates, moves to stand before her, Kaytoo’s leash tightly wound around his hand. “Give him time.”

“I don’t think he liked me then either,” she muses. 

Cassian tilts his head, doesn’t answer because he tries his best not to address the past like he’s promised. Instead, they shift in their respective spots in silence, neither really knowing what to say or even how to say it, and Cassian wishes more than anything that there were magic words that would, once and for all, dissolve the stiffness between them—not to woo her, not to even befriend her. Simply because he wishes Jyn and him were at a time where even complacency was okay.

And they aren’t even at that. 

Then Kaytoo tugs on his leash, and Cassian’s brought back to reality.

He says the first words that cross his mind—“Walk with me?”

Jyn wants to say no. 

He sees it flash through her features in the blink of an eye. But she stares at him for a moment longer, and he can visibly gauge the wheels turning in the back of her mind. Finally, she’s nodding and stepping a bit closer, and then they’re walking side by side with Kaytoo trotting before them, and even if it’s in stilted silence, Cassian thinks it’s one step better than before. 

He thinks—he _hopes_ —that one step is better than none at all.

—

Jyn is trying, really. 

Trust has always been a little hard for her, rooting to the days when her parents died and Saw abandoned her, and it’s taken her a long time to come to terms with the idea of even having people around worth trusting. She thinks Chirrut and Baze have had a large hand in that. 

But even though she is trying (and she is trying with Cassian, she really is), it doesn’t mean she will trust everything she is told and follow rules like a blind soldier. 

Which is how she finds herself trailing into the hotel room with a very heated Cassian Andor and a quietly lurking Bodhi Rook on their first out-of-town case together. He yanks the door open and quickly spins on his heels with a fierceness she’s never once before seen in his eyes. 

But if he is tough, Jyn is tougher. Or so she will continue to tell herself. 

Somewhere in the background, she hears Bodhi quietly exit and close the door—to give them space, she thinks, or simply to avoid Cassian when he’s like _this_ , and then Cassian’s voice fills the room, breaking the tension like a brick to glass. “You disobeyed _clear_ orders, Erso. What the hell were you thinking?”

“You were wrong,” she says, chin jutting high. “The file would have been lost had we followed your instructions—”

“Instructions clearly given to me—”

“When you know they may be wrong? When they may put our mission at risk?” 

His eyes are sharp, his lips tersely slipping into a thin line. “You put the team’s lives on the line.”

“Just one. Mine.” She licks her lips. “I knew what I was doing, and I don’t regret doing it.”

His jaw ticks. He turns, then, and starts to pack his small duffel bag for their early morning flight back to Hoth. “I’m suspending you until you learn to follow the rules. At this rate, you’ll be a loose cannon on all of our missions,” he mutters.

Jyn is silent. She doesn’t really disagree.

Cassian watches her with a fire in his eyes then lets out a long sigh, dropping his head in his hands. His tongue swipes across his lower lip before he’s gazing back up at her, teeth grinding. “Is this about what happened back then? You don’t trust my judgement? Because I thought fate was trying to say something about us?”

She clenches her jaw. “A clean slate,” she reminds him. “I promised you that, and you, likewise.”

He’s assessing her, and she doesn’t quite like it when he looks at her like that. “I need you to trust me, Jyn.” He’s quiet, a pregnant pause filling the air as they lock eyes, neither refusing to look away. They are both too stubborn for that. “I hope that you’ll trust me.”

Jyn narrows her eyes, tilts her head briefly. “Trust goes both ways.”

And then she’s headed into the bathroom before he can get in another word, leans back against the door to simply breathe—and she wonders if this is worth it, if trusting him is even worth it.

She hopes it is.

But hoping is one thing, and believing is another.

—

He’s got six bullets in the target—four in the chest and two in the head—when he sees her in his peripherals. She’s moving behind the wall, and Cassian unconsciously takes half a step back until he can see her gun cocked and her finger on the trigger in the chamber to his right. His whole body stills as he watches her fire it directly before her. 

Two bullets pass by straight to the head. Another six to the chest.

She must have have noticed him at some point because she’s saying something though he can’t hear with the plugs in his ears. He takes one out and tilts his head. 

She looks at him, repeats, “Need something, Captain, or you just going to keep staring?”

He blinks. Then shakes his head before he’s tucking his ear plug in, shifting back to his own chamber, and loading his gun with new ammunition. He cocks, shoots the target, looks over at her briefly again. Then presses, shoots once, twice, thrice—four bullets into the bulls-eye, the smell of gunpowder filling his nostrils.

They shoot in silence because it’s always been a bit difficult to hear over the thundering clap in an echo chamber. 

His gear comes off forty minutes later, and he’s wiping his face clean near the bathroom when she walks into view, gloves tucked into her pockets, a towel hanging around her neck. She stands in front of him and crosses her arms, and Cassian almost pulls himself backwards in surprise. He’s not used to her coming to him first, not for anything. 

“Take me off suspension.”

He raises a brow. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m a damn good officer, and you know it.”

A wry smile almost makes its way to his lips, but he catches himself. “Is that why you’re here? To prove that to me?”

She huffs but doesn’t disagree.

“I know you’re a good officer,” he says quietly, leans forward on his knees as he drops his towel back into his bag. “I know that.”

“Then take me off suspension.”

He sighs, shaking his head as he pulls his bag over his chest. He moves until there’s barely any distance between them. “I know that, but what I don’t know is if I can trust you not to go rogue on me. I need to know you have my back, Jyn. You need to be able to listen to me.”

She eyes him with furrowed brows. “I’m listening.”

“Then listen well—you’re my partner. I didn’t ask to be assigned to you, but either way, we’re stuck with each other, and we need to work together. The past is the past, which is why I’m trying to—” Cassian stops, frustration evident across his features. He licks his lips, then sighs deeply, heavily. “I want to trust you—I _need_ to trust you. But it starts with you trusting me. I need to be sure I can count on you, and right now… I don’t know if I can.”

She’s quiet, simmering, but she’s listening. Her bag is clenched tightly in her fist, and she closes her eyes. 

“I didn’t ask to be assigned to you,” he says again, quietly. “But it happened. And I just need to know if you’re willing to work with me—”

“I trust you.” She opens her eyes, looks at him carefully. “I know you think I don’t—but I do. I may not always agree with you, but I do trust you, Cassian.”

And the weird thing is, when he looks into her eyes, he knows she does.

Trust him, that is. 

Fate or hell aside, she does.

A weight seems to lift from his shoulders.

“I’m glad.”

—

There’s a cup of coffee on her desk when she comes into work. 

She stares at it for a moment before sliding into her seat. Then takes a sip of the coffee. She knows who it’s from, doesn’t even have to ask as she says the next words aloud, knows that it’ll travel to his office from where she sits. “Does that mean I’m off desk duty?”

“Nice try, Erso. Not for another week.” Then he’s peeking his head out, eyes catching sight of her. “We’re… going to the bar after work though. If you want to come.”

She blinks. 

“Okay,” she says slowly.

This is a good thing, she thinks. A step in their relationship.

She thinks.

She hopes.

She’s been hoping a goddamn lot lately.

—

“You know, I’ve always wondered who Jyn Erso was. Who could have possibly made Cassian mope as if the world was ending.”

Jyn raises a brow as Bodhi slurs just slightly forward. He’s not drunk—but maybe a little tipsy, a little happy tipsy. He grins at her, lips sliding over white teeth, starkly contrasted against dark skin. “Really,” she finally says.

“Cassian was a mess.”

Cassian refuses to meet her gaze from across the counter.

“Bodhi,” he says softly, a low warning.

“Sixty percent of the time,” he slurs, laughs. “That’s how often he thought about you.”

“It’s time to go home,” Cassian says, swinging his jacket over his shoulder. “Come on.”

“Come on, Cass. I’m just messing with you,” Bodhi barks earnestly, eyes twinkling as he shoves Cassian’s hand away. “Live a little.”

Cassian lifts his gaze to meet hers, and there’s something there—guilt, fear, uncertainty, maybe something in between. Jyn realizes he’s worried about her reaction, doesn’t want her to take it the wrong way when the past is the _past_. 

“A clean slate,” she says softly, tilting her head with a smile. She lifts her glass of beer, and Bodhi eagerly moves to clink his glass against hers.

“A clean slate,” Cassian repeats in a low murmur.

And later, when they’re helping Bodhi into a taxi cab, he’s looking at her with a softness in his features. “I’ll see you later, Jyn Erso.”

And this, this she knows. 

Not a coincidence, not a chance by fate, not even hope or anything in between.

Just life. 

—

“Feet off the dashboard, Erso.”

Jyn opens her eyes languidly, a yawn at her lips as she slowly tugs at her feet until they’re planted on the ground. She shifts herself until her spine is upright, arm swiping against her cheeks. Her voice sounds groggy to her ears when she speaks. “Anything?”

Cassian raises a brow at her before pressing into his comm unit. “Update me if you’ve got anything, Kes.” There’s a static sound and a resounding click, and they know Kes has heard the message but doesn’t want to compromise his position by vocally responding. 

It’s silent for a moment except for the wind pressing up against the windows, a gust through the trees and a bustle through the bushes, but otherwise, stillness. 

“You let me sleep,” she notes, rubbing her eyes until she’s fully awake. 

“You haven’t gotten much,” he says. 

“Neither have you.”

“I’m used to it.”

She scans his profile, assesses the dark shadows in his skin and the weariness sifting through his features. “You should sleep. I can take over from here.”

He glares at her, and she takes that as a no.

“You can trust me, you know,” she says dryly. But he knows, and she’s aware he knows. They’ve gotten past this for months now. “We’re only here for surveillance and emergency extraction _if_ necessary.”

“I do trust you,” he says firmly. “But I’m staying awake.”

Jyn sighs and leans back in her seat. “Suit yourself.”

There’s silence again, and Jyn wonders if turning on the radio will bother him. But she wants something to fill the silence, even if it is meaningless music from the local mainstream station. She doesn’t get a chance to ask because he starts speaking, then, and she finds she thinks he prefers his voice to the radio anyway. 

“Talking helps keep me awake,” Cassian says in the stillness. 

She considers this briefly. “Okay.” She looks at him. “You could just go to sleep.”

He’s looking at her expectedly, and she knows there’s no convincing him. 

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks.

“Anything. You can talk about anything, even if it’s just about you.”

So she starts to talk though she doesn’t _really_ like to talk a lot, least of all, about herself. But if it keeps him awake, if it keeps him alive, Jyn thinks—so be it. She’ll do this for Cassian if Cassian’s the only person she’ll do it for.

She talks about her guardians—Chirrut and Baze—and though she doesn’t explain exactly how they entered her life or anything pre-Chirrut-and-Baze, she does tell him she misses them and wishes she could visit them more often in Jedha. But work is work, and it’s hard being in the AIA. Sometimes harder than she expected, in more ways than one. 

“It comes with a lot of demons,” he says to that, his voice caught in the back of his throat, eyes slightly glazed over. “That’s the hardest.”

To that, she says, “Don’t let them haunt you. You’re a good man, Cassian.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, and she knows if she turns to look him in the eye, he’ll tell her it’s too late—in more ways than one.

Jyn talks about Leia for a split second, how she’s never really had friends—or _female_ friends, for that matter—and Leia’s been one of the first and only ones who understands her pain in a different sort of way. She doesn’t delve into the hows or the whats, just simply that—through families that have done them wrong, they have also been gifted with families who have done them good. She doesn’t know why she tells Cassian this, but she thinks, maybe, he understands. 

To this, he murmurs, “Skywalker’s a good kid.”

Jyn agrees. “What is Luke doing now anyhow?”

“He’s an FBI trainer,” he says. Then smiles wryly. “Calls his class the Padawans or something.”

After a while, she finds Cassian dozed off, head nodding just slightly.

She tells herself not to wake him unless she needs to.

She doesn’t need to.

Later, Cassian will be pissed, but she hopes he’ll forgive her for worrying about his health for once. 

“I can’t believe you let me sleep,” he mutters when they return from their mission.

“I can’t believe you thought I would wake you,” is her simple reply. “If I don’t worry about your health, who will?”

Cassian only shakes his head.

—

“Jyn?”

Jyn is here, but Jyn is unsure why her words feel like they’re being caught at the back of her throat, and why her throat and head feel like they’re _burning_. She looks at her phone again, almost forgets who she’s calling and why before his voice repeats her name through the speaker, a little more impatient and worried. She presses it back against her ears, her movements languid and achingly tiresome. 

“Hi,” she murmurs weakly before launching into a coughing fit, sputtering mucus back into her mouth. She groans. 

There’s silence.

Then, “Don’t come in today.”

Well, she wasn’t, considering that she’s still in her sweats, tucked carefully under her blanket, and her  body feels heavier than a ton of bricks. She feels herself slipping, slowly, into a quiet darkness, but his voice brings her back into reality. 

“Do you have a spare key to your place?”

Spare—spare _what_? She blinks with a start, has to repeat his words a few times before she gets what he means. “There’s… there’s an access code.”

“Text it to me.”

Then he’s hanging up, and somewhere between then and now, she finds herself lulling until everything is quiet. 

Later, she wakes up to the sound of her front door opening and closing, and on instinct, moves her hand to her bedside drawer to grab hold of her gun. But her body is hot and sweaty, and her muscles ache in a way she hasn’t experienced in a while. She barely makes it to the handle when Cassian appears at her bedroom door. 

“You’re awake.” Then, “There’s soup in the fridge.”

“Cass… ian?” Then she’s coughing again, and _fuck_ , everything hurts. “How did you…”

“You texted me the access code.”

She doesn’t remember that, but she doesn’t really remember much. She’s amazed she could function well enough to call him. Her body suddenly shivers with cold sweat, and Jyn pulls her covers up higher.

Cassian’s at her bedside in an instant, hands reaching out to lay the back of his palm against her forehead before muttering Spanish curses under his breath. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“I have,” she says weakly.

He raises a brow in disbelief before tucking her blanket around her shoulders. He’s murmuring something then, and she barely catches wind of it in her state—“I swear, if I don’t worry about your health, who will?” Then he straightens his spine, and she’s afraid to close her eyes because he looks ready to leave, and she’s not sure if she wants him to go just yet. 

“Are you leaving?”

Cassian eyes her carefully, brushes a strand of hair out of her face with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jyn hopes he doesn’t mean just now, but finds herself slipping again before she can say anything else.

—

He finds that he likes her smile but also when there’s a spark in her eyes and a quirk at her lips. Even when she’s arguing with him about mission details,  and he’s listening because he tends to listen to Jyn even if they have to agree to disagree. Even when she’s so close to him that they’re breathing angrily in each other’s space, noses pressed so close that he can visibly see the rough scars across her skin. 

Even when she’s storming out of the room in frustration, and he knows she’ll be angry with him for the next couple of hours or so.

And maybe he didn’t know her then, but he thinks he knows her now.

Finds his heart lurching because the last thing he wants is to scare her away for the second time in his life, hopes to God that whatever is keeping her will continue to keep her here.

So he keeps his heart quiet, will do anything so long as she stays. 

—

Somewhere between the beginning and now, they stop thinking about fate.

Instead, it’s simply life, and that’s okay.

Sometimes, she wonders if she had missed her chance.

Sometimes, he wonders if he should have tried harder.

But most of the time, they are complacent with where they are now.

And maybe even hopeful of new beginnings.

Then the Death Star appears, and Jyn wonders if hope is even enough to survive, or if her fate has always been doomed since the start.

—

“Jyn—”

“You should probably leave me alone,” she says, her tone sharp as she storms down the stairwell. 

Cassian sighs and stops at a platform between two sets of stairs, his hand carefully placed on the rail. “Why did you join the AIA?”

She stops in place, hand gripping tightly, fingers clenching around the cool metal. It was always a question lingering in the back of her head— _why_ did she apply, _why_ did she seek to be a part of something too much bigger than herself when she was just so much better at running? She thinks back to those days in her dorm when she knew little about herself and little about where she wanted to go, where she wanted to be, what she wanted to do.

The Alliance Intelligence Agency—it had a cause. She had never had a cause before, never sought to do anything bigger than herself. All things considering, why hope for something when she’s never had the chance?

_Everything will be tough, but you are tougher._

Maybe she just wanted to prove that. Maybe. 

She didn’t think it’d lead to finding her father well and alive and playing for another state of affairs, the architect behind a nuclear weapon that could very well destroy them.

She didn’t know. 

She had always thought he had died, all those years ago. 

She doesn’t know if she can do this, contribute to a cause that may or may not take her father away for the second time in her life. She doesn’t know if it’s worth it. 

“I’ve been in this fight for a long time,” he says slowly, carefully. “I’ve always known this was what I wanted, that this was where I’d exhaust myself.”

“That’s great,” she says tightly. She closes her eyes.

“Jyn.” He pauses, hesitates. “Please look at me.”

She doesn’t, for a moment. Then slowly, she turns until her eyes are on his. 

They don’t say anything for what feels like minutes too long. 

Finally, “I thought he died,” she says. She tries to keep her voice strong. She’s not sure if it’s working. “I didn’t know.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know if I can help.”

Cassian doesn’t say anything. 

Finally, “I hope you do.”

—

“I need to leave for the weekend.” Jyn pauses. “If… you’ll let me.”

Cassian blinks slowly, eyes fluttering once or twice before he finally responds. “Are you staying?”

It’s a loaded question, not gesturing to just now but in the long run, and she knows what he means. She licks her lips. “I just…” She closes her eyes. “I was hoping you’d let me go to Jedha. Just for a bit.” 

There’s silence, and Jyn is afraid he’ll say no. 

“I could flush out some contacts in Jedha.” Jyn blinks, unsure if she’s heard him right because though it’s not a no, it’s not a yes—really, she’s not sure _what_ it means. Cassian shifts his gaze from his desk then back to her, throws her a question she doesn’t expect for him to ask. “Do you want company?”

And for a moment, Jyn thinks about saying no.

Then she meets his eyes, and they’re filled with worry and fear and hope all at once though there’s a firmness to his face that pretends otherwise. 

So she tells herself she won’t mind the company, if only for a weekend.

That she won’t mind the company, so long as it’s Cassian.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” he murmurs.

“I will be.” She leaves out what she wants to say, that she hopes she will be, that it’s not confirmed, that she has no way to tell.

But she doesn’t want to worry him.

So she’ll tuck her hope away, pretend she’s confident in more ways that one, so that the uneasiness in his eyes and the uneasiness in her heart will hopefully disappear.

—

“Jyn’s brought home a boy.”

This is the first thing Cassian hears when he walks into Jyn’s home in Jedha. He wonders if it was the right choice to offer to accompany her, almost doesn’t know why he did (except, the thing is—he does know why) except that, now he’s here with uncertainty skimming under his skin and two pairs of eyes boring into his soul.

He thinks he recognizes them, somewhat, only distantly in his memory as blurry figures in the back of his mind. 

“This is Cassian,” Jyn says promptly, shutting the door behind her. She gestures towards the two figures before her, shifting her duffel bag carefully over her shoulder. “Cassian, Chirrut and Baze.”

Chirrut steps forward and eyes him carefully, cane firmly planted on the ground. “A lot of prisons, don’t you?” he murmurs. 

Cassian’s shoulders grow stiff. He can only stare back, very quiet, unsure of how to respond and even more surprised this blind man can read him so well without any words exchanged at all. 

“Don’t bother the poor sod,” Baze says gruffly as he takes Jyn’s duffel bag from her. “Not everyone enjoys your little antics.” 

Chirrut merely grins, lips sliding over white teeth. “I am merely stating what I see and making sure our Jyn is with people who deserve her.”

“Chirrut,” Jyn warns. 

“It is all fine,” he laughs, stepping forward to slap him on the arm, gripping tightly. Cassian almost flinches but keeps himself still. “His heart is here to stay.”

Later, when they’re preparing for bed, and Cassian is sprawled on her bedroom floor, his heart still drumming in his ear from the conversations of the night (Chirrut is a bit too much for him, sees too well into him)—Jyn pipes up, very quiet, “Am I allowed to ask?”

He shifts in the comfort of his blankets silently, his gaze peering up in the darkness. He’s not sure what she wants to ask, but he doesn’t object, and so she moves forward. 

“Am I allowed to ask,” she repeats slowly, “why you’re here?”

She doesn’t specify. He knows what she means, and he knows she doesn’t mean here as in Chirrut and Baze’s quaint two-bedroom house but _here_ in the long term, _here_ fighting. Still, Cassian remains silent. 

He thinks back to his family and their deaths at the heart of the Alliance. After moments too long in still darkness, he looks at her, then shifts his gaze to the ceiling. His voice is low, almost broken. 

“Hope.”

“Hope?”

“That one day, we won’t have to worry about a war not worth fighting and people not worth losing, that I have a home to come back to.” He pauses, words slow. “After all, rebellions are built on hope.”

—

Cassian’s words stay with her over the course of the next few days.

_A home to come back to._

“Is everything okay, Jyn?” 

Jyn closes her eyes, hands enclosed around the cool bottle of beer. Her eyes flutter open and trail to where Cassian and Chirrut stand at the edge of the backyard, and she can hear, just briefly, the small things Chirrut says as he elaborately explains each plant of his garden. The sight of Cassian’s stiff shoulders amuses her, and she can see the tense anxiety coursing through every bone in his body. She watches as Chirrut slaps Cassian’s back, barks a laugh and asks if he understands.

She turns to Baze and smiles, moves to clink her bottle against his. “It will be.”

And for once, she believes that.

Because if she thinks about it—even though she is incredibly hurt and pissed that her father left her behind, that he’s somewhere out there and not _dead_ —if she thinks about it, because of that, she’s been left with people she wants to protect, with people who want to protect her.

Because of that, she’s been given a home. 

She’s not quite sure what life would have been like if her father stayed, but she couldn’t imagine giving up what she has now.

Not Chirrut.

Not Baze.

Not even Cassian.

For a moment, she wonders if Fate’s had a hand in this. And maybe it has, but maybe, maybe it was simply her own father’s actions, and now she’s here. After all, it was Jyn’s choice to join the AIA, it was her choice to choose this—no one else brought her here. Nothing else pushed her here. 

She hopes to think she created her own fate, somewhat. 

That deep inside, she’s always wanted to protect her home more than anything. 

Because she has one now, and she hasn’t always had one. She doesn’t want it to disappear.

“It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay,” she repeats softly. 

“If you need anything,” Baze says quietly as his eyes peer out to the two men standing in the grass, “we are always here.”

She smiles. “I’ll remember that.”

She doesn’t know how she ever forgot.

—

His hand clasps over hers on the flight back to Hoth, and though it’s a gesture of hesitance (he doesn’t want her to run, not now, definitely not ever), Cassian would rather tighten his hold than loosen his grip. 

His eyes bore into hers. 

“Are you staying?” he asks quietly. “Did coming to Jedha help?”

Jyn looks at him, and he’s not quite sure if he can read the expression that flits across her features. He’s scared she’ll pull her hand away, so his grip tightens, thumb brushing over her skin. 

Then her hand is gripping his in return, and there’s a smile in her eyes as she nods with a slight. 

Relief floods his body.

“That’s good.”

Good is putting it lightly.

When really, it’s all he’s ever hoped for.

—

Somewhere between then and now as they prepare the mission to target the Death Star, Jyn remembers that even a single glimmer of hope is still a very powerful thing.

—

“Tomorrow,” she says, her voice low, caught in the back of her throat, “tomorrow, we take our chances.”

Cassian’s eyes are dark, watching her carefully. The cot and tent he’s been assigned is small, barely fitting the two of them as they sit, side-by-side, but Jyn doesn’t want to move. 

Tomorrow, they attempt to grab the Death Star plans, bring it back to base to understand its weakness and then formulate a team to destroy it. 

Tomorrow, she may see her father. Or she may not. She’s not quite sure what the base of Scarif will bring, or if her father is even there. 

But it was his choice to abandon her all those years ago, and though it _hurts_ , though she wants to care, he had made his stance to play the devious part of a war that could hurt those important to her, and for that, she could not forgive him. At least, not now.

Tomorrow, she would not let fate dictate her hands. 

“Tomorrow, we take our chances,” Cassian repeats, nods in agreement. He moves to brush his knuckles alongside her jaw, and her eyes flutter closed. “You really don’t think it was meant to be, somehow?”

Jyn opens her eyes, and he looks like he’s afraid she’ll pull away, so she moves her hand to still his. “I don’t believe in fate.”

He smiles wryly. “Even still? Through everything.”

“I’d hope to think I had a hand in my life up until now.”

Cassian considers this. “I’ve never wanted to believe in it. I was trying to live my life, mind you, and yet… here you are.”

“It was my choice to be here, thank you very much.” She tilts her head, her voice lowering. “I could have left.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” His voice is a whisper that barely resonates in the dark, and if she listens carefully, she can hear their temporary base in Scarif resound with noise as everyone prepares themselves for the infiltration the next morning. The sounds seem to disappear when he lifts a hand to brush her bangs aside her face, and her breath catches in the back of her throat. “Will you stay?”

Jyn closes her eyes. Then nods, slowly. “And tomorrow—”

“Tomorrow, we can only hope for the best.”

—

They did not expect for half of the facility to blow up, for a war to rage behind them as they tumbled behind a pair of wooden crates. It was supposed to be a simple infiltration, and though they had found and sent the plans just in the nick of time, the Imperial security troops were cornering in theirs before they could fully evacuate. 

And her father, who isn’t even here, who had still _contributed_ to this—who could, so easily, be the death of her and maybe never know it. She doesn’t know how she will ever find it in herself to forgive him.

Jyn winces as an explosion rings in her ears, the dust blowing in her eyes. 

“If we die—” Cassian rasps. 

“Don’t,” she says sharply, her eyes narrowing with a glint. Her jaw locks when she turns to look at him. “We’re not going to die. Don’t say something so stupid.”

“If we die,” he repeats, his voice firm, a glare in his eyes, “then you’ve got to know that I don’t care if you believe in fate.”

“ _Cassian.”_

_“_ Jyn,” he growls. Their gazes lock, and his features soften. “Jyn—”

“You don’t need to waste your breath. I know,” she says begrudgingly, the corners of her lips tilting down. 

His eyes shift back and forth, searching. “Then you have to know fate doesn’t matter. That I don’t care what the universe says. Or even if you believe in it.” 

She eyes him warily. “I know.”

There’s a terse silence between them, his eyes burning across her skin, carefully memorizing the scars and marks lain across her body, the permanent wariness written under her eyes, the determination—and still… and still—

“I love you,” he says softly. “And maybe I didn’t know you then, but I know you now.”

She closes her eyes. Then sharply, “We will _not_ die.” 

“Jyn—”

“We will not die,” she whispers. She smiles weakly. “If fate has a hand on anything, it has to have a hand on this.”

—

She crumbles to the beach, prays to God Bodhi is alive and well enough to pilot them out of Scarif. But she hasn’t seen him since they had dropped from the decks of their copter, hasn’t seen anyone since Cassian and her sent the plans to base. She would like to say it’s a successful mission save for the fact that they might not survive.

But they gave the world hope.

She gave her family a chance to live.

She protected a home that was waiting for her, even if she may not come back to it.

That’s something, if anything. That was more than her father had ever offered. 

She helps Cassian to the ground, and he flinches at her touch, hissing at the pain in his abdomen. But he shoos her help away when she offers it, and then they’re sitting there, together, slowly awaiting life or death. She wonders, for a moment, if Cassian was right after all. If this was always their fate from the start—doomed. But, maybe, doomed, together. “Do you think the universe was trying to say something? That we were meant to have our names written in the stars?”

“You don’t even believe in fate,” he scoffs.

“But you do.”

His voice is low, pained. “It wouldn’t matter if it did. It couldn’t change anything, not for me.”

Jyn snorts. “You were the one who said our lives were intertwining at the hands of fate.”

“I still believe in fate, and maybe fate did bring us together, to this point.” He closes his eyes. “But fate didn’t make me fall in love with you. You did.”

Jyn is quiet, and in the distance, it is still waters all around. And in any other universe, they could be lovers at peace, on the beach for the holiday, the fire blindly burning behind them. But instead, they’re here, so Jyn will say what she can while she can before she may never have the chance. “I still don’t believe in fate.”

“I know.”

She smiles at him, and there are tears in her eyes as she joins their hands, fingers intertwining. “I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in you,” she whispers. “And you gave me hope.”

Cassian smiles at her, a kindness in his eyes, hands gripping hers. 

“That’s all I could ever ask for, Jyn Erso.”

That’s all Jyn could ever ask for, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE PART I SWEAR 
> 
> friendly reminder that the tag is AN EVERYONE LIVES TAG so do not fear canon is enough angst for me TBH
> 
> thank you again to everyone who's kept up with this!!! 
> 
> if you ever have any q's, hmu here [@ma-chelle](http://ma-chelle.tumblr.com/) i'm a faster responder here


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